Earth and Space
by IceLyon
Summary: How can two entirely different people fall in love? What really happened between Bulma and Vegeta during those two long years? Read to find out.
1. The Situation

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of its characters…unfortunately.

**Chapter One**

Bulma had never been so angry in her entire life. She paced furiously around the cramped room. The nerve of that jerk! Did he _not_ have a brain in that thick oversized head of his, because he certainly acted that way?

Why? Why had she let him come to live at Capsule Corp? Whatever possessed her to ask him to? Well, she sure regretted it now. It had only been a month since that mysterious boy from the future brought news of the Androids and she had already been tempted to wring his thick neck. Bulma knew that wouldn't help or be effective but she was the only person here, besides her mom, who wasn't scared to death of him. She wasn't frightened of Vegeta, only mad at him. She couldn't even kick him out because he didn't want to leave, although he threatened to daily as if it was her loss that he left. Ha, only in his pathetic dreams.

Vegeta today had crossed the line. Nobody insults her work! Especially not that pig-headed, egoistic Saiyan! Then he had the guts to insult her further, as if it were her fault that all the equipment kept breaking. _She_ wasn't the one training in the gravitational chamber twice a day! Her poor father…. Vegeta had him working night and day to improve his training devices. If she had to fix just _one_ more machine he broke she would literally freak out. Bulma Briefs was slave to no one, she thought triumphantly.

The familiar sound of breaking glass ringed in her ears. No, not again! Her china, her _very expensive_ set of dishes; he always found a way to break at least one set a week. They were so beautiful, passed on by to her by her late grandmother. How could he be so clumsy? No, clumsiness was out of the question because she was almost positive it was intentional; that he wanted to push her off the edge. How else could he break the dishes locked in the cupboard high above the refrigerator by accident? And Vegeta's excuse every time? He was looking for a better plate… _yeah okay_. So, he opened a lock to get to her china instead of using one of her regular dishes, the less expensive ones. She had even recently placed a sign on the door. "_Do not go in the cupboard above the fridge Vegeta!_" How straightforward can you get? But always with the last words, he grumbled how it was befitting for a Saiyan Prince to be eating off such rubbish. Bulma had all the right to give him a piece of her mind because once again he had found her hiding spot. Why would he even think to look in the tool shed? Was psychic powers part of being a Saiyan? _Oh _why_ was he doing this to her?_

Walking downstairs she tried calming her rapidly beating heart. _1…2…3…4… 1…2…3…AHHH!_

She had stepped in a puddle of cold water.H-her beautiful kitchen! What the hell did he do to it? Water was everywhere, not just on the tiled floor, but also on the counters, cupboards, shelves, walls, and for God's sake even the ceiling. Dishes fell out of the flooded sink, hitting the floor with a frightful crash. The tap on the faucet was missing, and water was gushing out from where it had been. Someone with superhuman powers must have bent the O-ring. _Now, who could it be_?

Running as fast as she could to her tool room in the basement, she grabbed a large metal wrench and a replacement ring. Back in the kitchen, the water was beginning to rush down the stairs. Working quickly she turned off the water under the sink, stopping the spraying fountain above her. Wet and angry, she tightened the packing nut and replaced the O-ring on the broken faucet. Finished with that, she attached the top portion, twisting it back on. Pushing her wet hair out of her face a thought raced uncontrollably through her mind. She was going to kill him. Screw the Androids, _she_ was the one he should be really be scared of facing.

Always with perfect timing, Vegeta chose that moment to enter the kitchen, splashing as he strutted in. Staring at her with blank eyes he frowned.

"Look at yourself woman, you're a mess! Honestly, you should put some more effort into your appearance." Picking up a piece of wet fruit from the table and rubbed it on his dark pants.

"Ugh," he shuddered. "Somebody should really clean up this disaster." He then strolled away, taking a large bite out of the apple as he went.

Bulma stood there dumbfounded. _Was he blind or just that plain mean? _She staggered over to a soaked chair. That was it, the last straw. She wanted him out, desperately. She didn't care how, or what she had to do to get him to depart anymore. Bulma was beyond being nice. But, how could she get him to leave? Hinting at it didn't work either. Could anything get through that solid head of his!

Then an idea popped into her mind. If she couldn't get him to leave herself, she would make his life so miserable that _he_ would want to leave. What a perfect plan! He would be _so_ annoyed that he'd take his prideful Saiyan self out of here, to find a place better suited for a prince. Excellent! If she just took away the things he loved most, or in some cases destroyed them, he would be so angry that he'd just leave. Bulma felt so devious, and almost cackled in spite of herself, stopping only because someone could be around listening. Vegeta would pay for his rudeness, and for being so unbelievably inconsiderate, for she knew _exactly_ what mattered to him most.

"Hurry up old man, I haven't got all day you know," growled Vegeta.

Dr. Brief nodded in understanding, the sweat pouring down the side of his face. He continued to work, hands shaking precariously. For the last month, Vegeta had been threatening him again and again to improve and repair the training equipment he used everyday. At first he didn't really mind, for Vegeta's intentions seemed good. But it now occurred to him that there was more to the story then he implied. The coming of the Androids and him training to face them seemed only to be an obvious cover-up.

When he arrived at Capsule Corporation on his first day, Vegeta had walked right up to him demanding that he use the same equipment that Goku had trained with on his way to the planet Namek. In order to beat the Androids, he stated, he needed to surpass his adversary. Likely story. The truth became relevant at this time to him. Vegeta had never planned to train for the Androids, but only to surpass his good-hearted rival. Although he has been at it for about a month, he still has not reached the next level. Goku on the other hand, surpassed, and became a Super Saiyan only after a week or two of training. And even he didn't go about it at the same level of intensity as Vegeta has…. What was the hidden secret of Goku's success?

"What the hell is taking so long?" Vegeta grumbled as he lay back in his chair. He tossed an eaten apple core across the room into a metal garbage can. Cracking his neck and stretching his legs he yawned loudly.

"Hurry up or I'll make you," he said in a very threatening tone of voice.

Bulma had just finished cleaning up the kitchen. A three-hour long chore…. She often pictured throwing Vegeta out as she did the garbage. The number of broken dishes was unbelievable! It had to be record; she was seriously going to check the books. "Most dishes broken in five minutes. Record held by Vegeta the Prince of Chaos."

Now she needed to go out and buy an entire new set of dishes. Shopping in a day because by then Vegeta would be gone and out of her life! She had devised an unfaultable plan while soaking up the water on the floor. A plan so ingenious, so devious, that it could not fail. Even though it was plain cruel, she didn't care. The monkey had outstayed his welcome.

The kitchen clean, Bulma sat down to catch her breath. She had to start putting her plan in motion sometime today. There was still a lot of work to be done and a lot of changes to be made. First off, making sure her parents didn't suspect her, even though she knew they would somehow. Nevertheless, the evidence could not point at her.

A loud crash came from the yard. Vegeta had finished his afternoon training and destroyed half of his training equipment like usual. Her poor unfortunate father! Vegeta had him working like a dog day and night. If she was her dad, she'd have quit that job ages ago. Doctor Brief was frightened though. Her mom was the only sensible person here at Capsule Corporation, well besides her. Ms. Brief wasn't scared of Vegeta, but she was far too nice to that alien menace than Bulma approved. Still, her mom wasn't intimidated by his constant demanding. In fact, she had told her mother she would have tea with her this afternoon.

A door creaked open and Vegeta strutted, dripping with sweat, into the sparkling clean kitchen. Grabbing a little bit of everything, he took his meal to the living room, food dripping on the spotless floor as he went. Bulma picked up a nearby banana and threw it forcibly at his head, which he grabbed easily and placed on the top of his balancing pile.

"THAT IS IT!" She bellowed.

The teacups rattled as Bulma banged her head against the table. Her mom sat adjacent to her sipping her drink warily. In a caring voice she cooed, "Bulma dearest, you mustn't let him get to you so much."

Bulma said angrily, "He just gets me so mad! I cannot stand him living here anymore! Vegeta is nothing more then an egoistic nuisance! I just want him to leave."

Her mom checked out her manicured fingernails. "People can change darling, why don't you give him at least one more chance?"

Bulma snorted, "_Give him a chance_? Ha, I've already given him more then enough chances to last a lifetime!"

"But _he is _training for the earth's sake."

"I bet not!" said Bulma confidently. "He probably just said that so he could live here and eat our stuff. It's not like he is showing any improvement anyway…"

"Sweetie, you were the one who invited him." Bulma looked away. She was right, unfortunately. Bulma had forgotten that she had first invited him to stay…how stupid of her.

"And he _has_ been training….Why chase him away?" Her mom smiled crookedly. "Besides, don't you think he's handsome?"

What? Handsome? Vegeta? Bulma almost burst out laughing. All she saw when she looked at him was more work. Handsome? She couldn't believe her own mom said that, wow there goes all the respect. How could that man be attractive? He had never even smiled, laughed, or felt any of the basic emotions actual humans felt.

"Handsome? Mom, you've got to be kidding me." Bulma's mom was genuinely shocked.

"What? You don't think he's hot? Vegeta is certainly built."

That was enough. She regarded her watch.

"Oh, look at the time! So sorry mom, I have a date with Yamcha. I've got to go get ready, you know how it is, bye now."

Her mother looked convinced, thankfully.

"Well, join me for tea tomorrow at one. You are always so busy; I never get to see you much anymore. People would never guess that we live in the same house."

"Yeah. Sure."

"And also, be careful around Yamcha…. Sometimes I worry about you dating him."

"Yamcha is a sweet guy."

"Well, be careful anyways."

"_Bye_."

Well, got out of that mess, thought Bulma. Yet now she needed to call Yamcha to make a date. She knew why her mom distrusted Yamcha; he had once cheated on her…. Well, that was the past and he has changed. Plus, he apologized about a hundred times. So she took him back, because he said he'd never do it again. Although she'd never forgive him…. He did make it up to her. She really loved him too, and he loved her. They were a great pair.

Walking through the living room she stopped dead. Bits and pieces of food were everywhere. Vegeta's sweaty shirt lay on the couch, covered in fruit peels and stains. Dirty dishes lay on the floor and furniture. The couch, television and footstools were now rearranged badly, and the carpet was busily soaking up a spilt drink. Fists clenched, she changed her plans, revenge moving to top of her mental priority list. Tomorrow, Vegeta would finally feel the wrath of Bulma Briefs!

So, what do you think? What will become of Vegeta once Bulma's through with him? Read the next chapter to find out! Please RR!

IceLyon


	2. Revenge

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or any of its characters sadly…_but_ I do have the right to make up embarrassing and humiliating scenarios involving them! Hell yeah!

**Chapter Two**

The sun managed to creep its way into Bulma's bedroom that early summer morning. Light shinning through the window, via a large gap in the vertical shutters, created an almost prismatic effect, which shone on her pale bed sheets. In time, it advanced on her face, warming, and awaking her from a pleasant slumber.

She turned, an irrepressible smile formed, being only half-consciously aware of its appearance. Pulling the thin covers around her, she lay in a dreamlike stance, pondering and reliving the night before.

It was almost like a fairytale, her date with Yamcha. He had arrived, surprisingly bearing a costly bouquet of gorgeous flowers, a combination of all kinds of wildflowers. It was especially shocking seeing that she had only asked him to attend the show with her a few hours back. Nevertheless, there was still a wide array of stunning floral blossoms. Her favourite, lilac, although not included, was not forgotten. Yamcha had tried to get her the closest flower possible to it, apologizing perpetually that they were not in season. How incredibly adorable and extremely romantic that little gesture was. It made her heart sing with joy.

They continued the evening by promenading down by the river, she in her fitting red dress and matching high heels, and he wearing a dark suit, double breasted with silver buttons. They looked as if they had just walked straight out from one of those medieval balls. It certainly was strange wearing such outfits, but their clothing was required for the exclusive show they were to attend later that night. Besides, it added to the entire mood of the evening.

She and Yamcha continued their stroll along the riverbed talking avidly, when Yamcha announced that he had something he wished to show her. She agreed naturally, to follow him where he wished to take her.

Leading Bulma by the hand, he brought her to a secluded floral garden. It was breathtaking beautiful. Flowers and vegetation were planted here from all over the world, arranged very nicely, she might add. Each section of the grounds had its own theme, depending on where the plants were from. Plus, they had added common architectural structures, which related with the country the segment was based upon. It was really quite neat.

They continued down the rocky path, the sun beginning to fade as they walked, killing time before they were due at the show. Bulma had called concerning tickets yesterday afternoon, and the theatre was not about to exclude the daughter of the Capsule Corporation fortune from obtaining admission. And somehow, they got two tickets, very pricey but close to the stage at that, to a sold out performance. The influence of cash always seems to help a bit.

Holding hands, they neared the Japanese portion of the garden, and watched the first stars emerge on a small wooden bridge beneath a blooming cherry blossom. There they shared a passionate kiss, holding each other as they admired the beauty that surrounded them.

They were a perfect couple, she knew then. Well, she had figured as much before, but now she was absolutely certain. How could anything that felt so right, be wrong. Anyhow, she was glad that she took Yamcha back. She loved him, _yes_ loved, and couldn't be happier now that they were back together.

They arrived at the theatre, late, but uncaring. She tried to sneak quietly to her seat. But, Yamcha kept pissing people off as he shuffled through the audience and intentionally kept stepping on their toes as he passed. It was incredibly embarrassing; however she couldn't keep from laughing.

Finally in their seats, the show halfway finished already, it only seemed logical that there was no sense in trying to get into the play now. Besides, Yamcha was a much better show. The elderly couple next to them didn't agree, as they turned their heads aside uncomfortably. Too bad for them, but she didn't really care, it never seemed awkward to her. At the end of the performance she bestowed upon Yamcha a rating of two-thumbs up, five stars, and ten out of ten.

Well, that was a waste of expensive theatre tickets, she thought, and bet the old couple agreed fully. What the heck, she was loaded. But theoretically they had not been a complete waste. Yamcha could verify this.

The show being done and over with meant that their date was almost completed. Still, they were together for a little longer, as they took the long way home.

Arriving on the grounds of Capsule Corp. quite a bit later, the moon was fully out and veiled the world in its pale blanket of light. She had her shoes off by then; those damned high heels had given her a nasty blister, and walked through the thick grass. It felt wonderful against her aching toes. Yamcha, advancing silently behind her, swept her off her feet quite literally. Her dress flowed around them as he circled with her in his arms. A magical ending to a most wonderful date.

Bulma sighed deeply. Yamcha and her, were, well perfect together! That's why she forgave him after all; they both knew it was true. After all, she liked Yamcha since the very beginning…

Back to reality, she threw aside the covers, deciding that it was about time for her to get out of bed. Stretching, her arms, legs, she walked to her conjoined personal bathroom. Regarding the mirror, she combed her messy and extremely thick blue hair behind her ears. Adding, after some contemplation, a navy blue headband to keep the hair out of her face. Why she had ever gotten a perm, she'll never know.

Anyhow, it was about time to base this day's outfit on her recently added accessory. Brushing her teeth, she headed towards her spacious closet.

Navy blue, hmmm… She tore through countless hanger and drawers, searching for a possibility. No, no, no, where did she get some of these clothes. They _might_ be fashionable on mars.

Finally her blue eyes came to rest on the choice of all choices. It was perfect. In fact, it couldn't have suited her more.

It was a beautiful three-piece outfit from a privately owned boutique in town. She recalled when she had first laid eyes on it because it had called to her. No wonder. It composed of a skirt, long-sleeved shirt, and a matching vest. The skirt was the same design as the shirt, crimson red with elegant black strips. In truth, they together looked like a dress, since they went together so easily. The vest was a medium tone of orange in colour, and complemented the outfit completely. Bulma, after a quick search, discovered shoes in the same colour as the vest. Perfect! This day was already turning out beautifully.

Well, even if it had started out terribly, this day would have still been wonderful. Today was it for Vegeta, _adios_ to him, and tomorrow he would be gone, free of destroying her life. So what if she felt terrible about the whole ordeal, it was not like he didn't deserve it.

She had planned out everything last night before she left, it was cruel, but it should be extremely effective. Operation **M**onkey **O**ut **O**f **H**ouse (**MOOH** for short) would be set in motion any time now. Actually, she was surprised it hadn't yet.

As if on cue, the clash of breaking dishes could be heard from downstairs. This time though, it brought a smile to her face. She didn't care what dishes he broke in his rage, it would be worth it to see his priceless expression.

"GODAMMIT WOMAN! WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THE FOOD?" Vegeta bellowed from the kitchen. More dishes crashed vigorously against the tiled floor.

Yes! She gave her reflection in the mirror a high-five. **MOOH** was already starting to affect him, but seriously, why wouldn't it? Bulma knew that without food, no Saiyan could function, and Vegeta wasn't any different. It was mean, but hell, she wouldn't let him starve. She just wanted to push him off the edge, like he had done to her countless times.

Bulma laughed out loud. What an excellent day this was already, although she knew tomorrow would be much better, for there would be no mess to clean up after.

She soon decided to head downstairs, after she was dressed, make-up had been applied, and a forced innocent smile was upon her face. He couldn't suspect her, or he wouldn't leave, she knew _that_ much about him. His pride would never allow a woman to kick him out. Vegeta would just have to believe that this place was terrible to live. Then her plan would be a total success. She chose to go over the first stage of her plan mentally.

**Operation Monkey Out Of House (MOOH)**

**Phase One: **

Remove all edible items from the Capsule Corporation area.

Get parents to go out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, her treat. Send them to a show. Tell them that she would replace the missing food later, if they asked.

3) Vegeta, having no apparent money of his own, will be hungry and pissed.

4) Offer to cook him something… special!

Bulma gravitated to the kitchen, where Vegeta was clawing through the many cupboards like a hungry animal. He had to stand on the counter because of his height, or maybe it was just that he liked being taller…for once. Turning to her, eyes like a starving cat, he shouted vociferously.

"WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THE FOOD?"

Bulma suppressed a laugh. Any hungry Saiyan would behave this way, even Goku. Maybe food was the secret of their success? They ate enough to support an army for a lifetime. No wait, that wasn't even close. Throw in the navy as well as the air force and that sounded correct.

Bulma figured that they must need all that energy because they wasted so much, especially in Vegeta's case, big mouth and all. Well in any case, Vegeta expected an answer, and he looked very …_wild_.

"I should be asking _you_ that question! I'm not the one who ate it all!" She said in a very matter-of-factly tone of voice.

"YOU'RE BLAMING ME!" He snarled.

"YEAH, SO WHAT IF I AM!" She replied loudly.

Vegeta looked ready to shoot her with a ki blast.

"I'M HUNGRY, AND I NEED SOMETHING TO EAT! I AM A _PRINCE _FOR GOD'S

SAKE!"

Always with that same old pathetic excuse, she thought. If only she were only a princess, then they'd be on level ground. Even better if she was a queen, then she could outrank him, plus make the rules to boot. Sigh, too bad for him that it didn't take a queen's influence to bring him down.

"You couldn't have eaten it all." She said calmly.

Bulma opened the fridge door, the cool air felt nice on her face and pretended to search around, shoving around the little food left.

"What are you talking about anyways, Vegeta? There is tons of food left..."

Vegeta shrugged his shoulders. "Impossible, I just checked. Let me see."

She moved aside as he came barrelling towards the refrigerator. Sticking his entire face into it, he began pushing things around, just as he did in real life.

"You're crazy; there is nothing here except for spinach, broccoli, and other disgusting crap… I mean vegetables. In fact, that seems to be the only thing in here!"

Bulma's twisted smile could not be contained, "Well, spinach and broccoli _are_ fit for human consumption, so I'll cook you up some, but you'll owe me."

Vegeta appeared prepared to vomit. In fact, his face had a slightly greenish tint to it. The precise colour as the broccoli actually!

"But, I hate spinach… and broccoli… and most vegetables… because they're so utterly _vulgar_."

Hmmm... How did she know that he just _adored _green vegetables? Well, it could be that he ate almost everything else in the kitchen, except for them. That gave it away fully. Actually, she swore that he'd rather consume the cutlery before he devoured his green favourites.

"Food is food Vegeta, and legumes are included in the deal. " She raised her hand and shook her index finger at him.

"If you're _that _hungry, you'll eat what I cook."

Vegeta's growling stomach provided the answer she was looking for.

"Fine, then," she said.

Gathering together the dishes necessary, including a pan Vegeta had carelessly thrown on the floor, she began to cook a meal he would never forget. Taking the vegetables from the fridge and washing them in warm water, she started chopping when they dried.

There was only an assortment of vegetables in the fridge, nothing else due to her ingenuity. The rest of the food had been relocated until this ordeal was over. Thank goodness that her parents had agreed to go out for breakfast this morning, or they would've gone straight out to restock the cupboards to Vegeta's benefit.

She fried the vegetables in the pan like a stir-fry, except it was deprived of meat, Vegeta's preferred food group. She added a garlic sauce, well past the best before date, and continued to fry. It smelt, well, horrible, and the entire dish was a very unappealing green. It also didn't help that the spinach started to burn. She was one hell of a cook!

Vegeta sat impatiently at the black ebony dining room table, a look of disgust plastered on his face. He was actually scared to taste the concoction the blue-haired witch was putting together for him in the kitchen. It stunk so badly, what the hell was she burning now, he thought?

"Here you go Vegeta, there's more if you want." Bulma said cheerfully, as she placed a plate of the pile of burnt, mushy, green vegetables in front of him.

He looked warily at the dish, then at her, as if he were hoping that a slab of beef would magically appear in its place. Taking his fork, he prodded at the mess, unable to properly grab a hold of a soggy piece of celery. Throwing his fork aside, against Bulma's objections, he grabbed a spoon. Once in possession of the steaming mixture, he raised it panicky to his closed mouth.

Bulma held her breath; it was just like watching a suspenseful Hollywood movie or a circus act. _Will he eat it ladies and gentlemen? _Oh, this was too good to be true; she knew he had a weak point involving food. Apparently vegetables seemed to be his.

Both eyes focused on the spoon, Vegeta proceeded to place the contents spoon in his now opened mouth onto his tongue. Contact! His face instantly turned a chalky white. He held it in his puckered mouth, eyes watering. Oh yeah, she added some rotting onions for flavour. Did she put too much in?

"Vegeta, don't be a baby! Just eat it!"

He did a sort of half-nod. The last thing that he wanted was to be called was a baby. Mustering all his will power, he swallowed. His face went from chalky-white to a nice sea-green colour.

"See that wasn't so bad. Geez, you over-exaggerate everything." Bulma stated, killing herself laughing on the inside. She shook in the process of trying to suppress a giggle, not knowing how long she could hold on.

He nodded silently again, and went for another spoonful apprehensively. He struggled more with the dish then he did his training, or so it seemed to Bulma. She wondered how much more of it he could take.

Vegeta bolted like lightning to the upstairs bathroom when his plate was emptied. There was still more on his dish, but she wasn't picky. Vegeta had lasted longer then she thought he would.

She cleared her plate, which she never touched, into the garbage bin. When she returned to the kitchen, she noticed Vegeta trudging down the stairs, muttering to himself.

"_Trying to poison me… vile… putrid_…"

She suppressed a laugh, and this was only phase one. Wait until he noticed phase two!

**Phase Two: **

Gather together all the red and pink clothes available in her closet.

Search mom's room for possible pink clothing items.

Enter Vegeta's room during training hours and take all of his regular clothing.

Mix in a washing machine for an hour using scalding hot water for devious results.

Act like it was an accident.

She wondered how much Vegeta liked pink? She saw him wearing a pink shirt recently, but he never wore it more then once. Maybe he only decided to put it on because it was the only article of clothing he had. All the shirts and pants he wore around here were bought by her, or were previously her father's. Also, she had made him some training clothes. Nevertheless, she didn't think he'd be too thrilled about looking like a walking stick of gum. Time to set phase two into motion, she thought happily.

Heading to the basement, she emerged with a basket of entirely pink shirts, pants, and shorts she had washed yesterday. Too bad a lot of Vegeta's clothing had been black, but there were more light colours to dye though, so she couldn't complain. Still, Vegeta, being the prideful creature he is, shouldn't be too cheerful about this particular load of laundry. Even if it didn't bother him, there was still more to the plan then this.

"_Oh dear_," she cried, when she was near Vegeta's vicinity. She pretended to look into the basket in shock.

That got the monkey's attention. "_What_?" He snapped.

She tucked the basket behind her and smiled naively. She should be an actress! Bulma Briefs in Hollywood hmmm? Not a bad idea.

"Oh nothing", she replied, moving cautiously towards the door.

"ARE THOSE MY CLOTHES IN THERE?" He roared.

"Maybe", she said timidly, and took off. Word of advice, don't try to outrun a Saiyan. Vegeta had caught up to her almost immediately, snatching the basket of laundry from her hands.

Walking over to a nearby chair he began rummaging through the very pink clothes, searching for what was his. In shock he turned to her a yelled.

"Don't tell me that you don't even know how to do laundry? What _kind_ of woman are you?"

One of a kind, she thought.

"Well… you can wash your own clothes from now on buster, because I quit!"

That shut him up. Turning to the laundry in disgust, he held up his now pink shirt.

He stated quietly. "But why pink, of all possible colours? Why did they have to turn pink?"

He hated to admit it but Vegeta looked really depressed. She hated to do it really, but it had to be done. She needed to see the plan through to the end. Yet, he looked so sad…

Gathering his pink clothing together, he shoved them back very messily into the basket. Then muttered something which really sounded like, "Now I half to stay in these clothes", and walked off swearing non-stop (words that cannot be printed in a PG-13 fic IceLyon).

Feeling a little downhearted, she sulked her way into the kitchen. Sitting with a glass of water, she sighed, lost in her own thoughts. A loud tapping came from the window and she jumped. Yamcha was knocking from the outside, wearing a traditional orange gi and a smile on his face. Puar, his talking cat-thingy friend, was with him, waving. Oh, she had almost forgotten phase three.

**Phase Three:**

The only thing Vegeta despises more then bad food is Yamcha.

Allow Yamcha to use the grounds in order to train for the Androids.

Vegeta and Yamcha were bound to meet eventually ().

She walked over and opened the kitchen door for Yamcha, kissing him as he strode in. He didn't seem very enthusiastic when he returned her kiss, but he was smiling.

"Thanks for letting me use the grounds; it's a great place to train."

"No problem at all," she responded. "It's for the earth's sake anyway."

Yamcha stood up straighter. "That's true."

She hated incorporating Yamcha into the plan, but if anybody could piss Vegeta off it was him. Besides, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

"So, is Vegeta still here?" He asked in an irritated tone of voice as he peered around. Yamcha didn't approve of Vegeta, and Vegeta didn't approve of Yamcha. It was a vicious cycle. She placed her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, so what?"

"I've never trusted him." He stated. "He tried to destroy the world, he killed me."

"He's changed Yamcha. Vegeta is one of the good guys now." Why was she sticking up for Vegeta?

Yamcha regarded her differently then before.

"It doesn't mean I trust the guy. Once evil, always evil…"

"Trust is out of the question, I just was stating that he has switched sides. We need him for the fight with the Androids."

"Since when did you start defending Vegeta, Bulma?" Yamcha said glumly.

Shocked, she told him, "I am not sticking up for him, Yamcha. I'm just stating the obvious. We need Vegeta on our side if we want to win this battle against the machines."

Yamcha could become very annoying after a while. She was only speaking the truth, and yet he always thought she was wrong. Who was the mechanical genius here, Yamcha or her?

"Still, he could turn on us…"

"Yeah. That's always been a possibility, but he's proven that he's on our side. For the time being at least."

"So you truly think he could help us win against the Androids?"

"Yeah, Vegeta is an accomplished fighter. He could very well be the one to lead us to victory."

What the hell was he getting at? She hated Vegeta's guts, but she couldn't ignore the fact that he was a Saiyan (a very self-centred alien at that) and a valuable asset to the team.

He frowned. "Lost all faith in Goku now haven't you."

Now that was unexpected! How dare Yamcha even question that she'd lost faith in her trusted friend! He was assuming things for her again! She regarded him fiercely.

"Yamcha, now that's crossing the line. My faith remains with Goku, _not_ Vegeta."

"So, you still want him to leave?"

"Yes." She answered back crossly.

"Good."

Bulma resumed her seat at the table and finished her glass of water. She did not make eye contact with her boyfriend.

"You're welcome to any training equipment you wish. It's all in the shed." She tossed him a small silver key from her side pocket.

"Thanks. Come on Puar." Relieved, he turned to leave. Puar glared at her, and she hissed back. It wasn't like he was intimidating or anything.

Well, that conversation wasn't the most romantic, but it was memorable indeed. Yamcha was in a very weird mood…

She continued to stare into the distance. Was Yamcha jealous of Vegeta, or was it more than that? What did he have to be jealous of? She didn't like Vegeta, so it didn't make sense. What could've caused his strange mood?

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and Vegeta waltzed through, heading to Capsule Three for his morning training. He was wearing a pink shirt. Opening the kitchen door he silently slid outside.

Yamcha emerged from the shed, training equipment dangling from his arms. Puar held something small as well.

Dropping the supplies, he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm. It was already proving to be a hot day, hurray, just what he needed. Puar looked up at him questioningly, and started speaking.

"I never liked Bulma…"

"I know, but I do."

"_Sure you do."_ Puar said mockingly.

"Hey!" He stopped talking when Vegeta approached, still oblivious that Yamcha was near. _Great_, now Vegeta was coming, he thought.

Vegeta walked silently, victim to his own thoughts. When he finally noticed Yamcha, he scowled. It was that nobody, why was he even here?

"Like the shirt." Yamcha said in a very sarcastic voice.

Vegeta grumbled. "_Didn't I kill you_?"

"Yeah." He said apprehensively. "But I was brought back to life due to the Dragon Balls, no thanks to you."

Vegeta smirked. "Could've sworn you were still dead, but then again, you were never much of a fighter. What a waste of a wish."

Yamcha bared his teeth. "_How dare you_," he said in a very heavy surfer's accent.

"How dare _I_? How dare you use my training equipment, you nobody? It's not like it is helping." Vegeta gestured to the pile of training supplies, which Puar stood cautiously near.

"You'll see it will." Yamcha said triumphantly. "I can help save the earth as much as you, maybe more."

Vegeta continued walking, back turned to Yamcha.

"I wouldn't bet on it." He scoffed.

"Jerk."

Fist clenched, Yamcha twisted back around to his training equipment. Puar stood staring avidly.

"You'll show him, right Yamcha?" Puar said encouragingly in a very high-pitched squeaky voice.

"Yeah, I'll show him. Whatever training he's doing in that capsule can't be too tough. I bet he's just sitting in there, sipping on an iced tea."

"That's the spirit!" He said as he bounced around. "Now let's start training!"

Yamcha nodded his head, pushing his black hair off of his tanned face.

"Alright, lets."

Wow, real sorry for the slow update. This chapter turned out much longer then expected, but there was so much to say. I don't want this to be another lovey-dovey sappy fic, but one more close to the truth (if the episodes had been more in-depth). Still, I'll follow the episodes closely, to make sure that everything fits. Plus I couldn't ignore the fact that Bulma has feelings for Yamcha, I know you BV fans hate it, but you know how it turns out!

Well, it's time again to start a new chapter. Stick around for Chapter-Three.

IceLyon


	3. Yamcha's Peril

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z is not my creation…sniff …damn, it just isn't fair!

**Chapter Three:**

Puar lobbed a small polished metal object high into the air, which Yamcha shot down easily with a blast of ki. Taking many more the next time, he threw approximately ten high above him. Yamcha destroyed them with surprising ease. Next, the talking cat threw them quite rapidly at Yamcha, who had to duck and dodge the incoming (almost invisible) objects. He rolled to a stop and lay in the cool grass, exhausted. The sky seemed to sway overhead and the earth seemed unsteady beneath him.

"Hurray, go Yamcha!" Puar called from where he stood, jumping in a way that resembled an exuberant grasshopper.

Yamcha sighed. He _was _getting better. Maybe he would actually be of some help to the earth this time. Well, he couldn't really do anything the last time, for he was kind of dead during the entire Namek ordeal. This time around though, he'd show everybody what he was truly made of.

Puar came trotting over, grinning from pointy ear to pointy ear.

"_Oh_, Yamcha, you're _so_ good!" He cheered.

Yamcha smiled tiredly. Training took a whole lot out of a person. He regarded his black wristband for his sports watch…he had been at it for over an hour. That had to be enough for a while, Yamcha thought. Vegeta probably only halved his training time, he contemplated triumphantly.

Yamcha breathed in some fresh air and sighed, glad to be outdoors. He really wanted a cold drink, but he was scared to face the demon known as Bulma inside. God, she could be so frightening sometimes, it sent a shiver down his spine to even think about it. He disregarded the thought and turned over to his small comrade who was seated next to him.

"Thanks Puar. It's all because to you. I never would have reached this level if you weren't helping me out," he said brightly and Puar's face lit up. Yamcha persisted,

"Hey, did you happen to noticed if Vegeta finished his training yet?"

Puar shifted his eyes suspiciously. "You mean has he finished his iced tea yet, right? No, Vegeta has not emerged from the Capsule so far."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely positive!" He squeaked.

What _was_ he doing in there, thought Yamcha? It actually intrigued him. Not training he bet.

"Puar, what would you say to spying on Vegeta?"

"You serious?"

"Yeah, I just need to know something. Maybe, Vegeta has some special technique that makes him _that inhumanly _powerful. He's a Saiyan; perhaps their race passes down some hidden technique or something. Nevertheless, I need to know the truth."

"I still don't see why we have to- Hey wait!" Yamcha took off towards the Capsule, breaking into a run.

"Hold on! Yamc_haaa_, wait for me! _I'm_ tired and it's not fair, your legs are bigger then mine." Puar called, as he skipped to catch up, unable to fly.

The Capsule Corporation grounds were enormous and the surrounding buildings were exceedingly more. Yamcha headed towards the Capsule furthest from the main structure. Since there happened to be many windows, Yamcha had to duck to avoid being seen until he found a relatively small one in the back. He was shocked at how large the Capsule was up close; it was almost the size of a gym. Lifting his head to peer in, he jumped. His friend's high voice had startled him.

"_Yamcha_, I don't think this is a good idea!" Whined Puar worriedly. "If he sees us, Vegeta will be very upset." He wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

Yamcha laughed while patting his small partner on the head. "You're probably right, but that's not going to stop me. I need to know his secret, no matter what the cost."

"Fine, do what you wish, but you've been warned. And-"

"And what?" Yamcha wondered.

"Lift me up to the window, I want to see!" He cried annoyingly.

Yamcha sighed deeply. "Yeah, sure little buddy."

Puar hopped up Yamcha's outstretched arm to his shoulder, where he stood. Both peered in the dark chamber, flabbergasted by what they saw.

The chamber was illuminated by a pale red light, however, they could still see everything that was going on inside. Vegeta, pink shirt discarded somewhere, was beating a large crimson punching bag with his fists at an amazing speed. Both human and talking cat could not even distinguish the movement of Vegeta's hands. His fists were but skin coloured blurs or during other intervals invisible to the human eye. Still, doesn't sound like anything extraordinary, right? Try training at three hundred times earth's normal gravity as he was!

Yamcha was bewildered, his mouth hung low in surprise. He couldn't be reading the control panel right.

"P-Puar…" He asked, frightened. His eyes were wide and white as porcelain saucers.

He looked frightened. "Yamcha, what is it?"

"Tell me…what does the control panel say? Maybe my eyesight is fading or something. Perhaps I need glasses."

Puar scrunched up his eyes, looked in, and turned to his friend, not quite knowing what he meant.

"It says 300G's. Why do you ask?"

Yamcha ducked again, and pounded the dirt in his rage. Just what he was afraid of!

"_Damn him_! How does he do it?" He cried. It was impossible. Three hundred times earth's gravity, it was inconceivable! He wouldn't believe so either, even though he saw it with his own eyes. It had to be a trick of some sort (sound familiar?).

"Yamcha, what is the matter?" Puar asked, concerned. His pal was acting weirder than usual.

"Vegeta, he's training at three-hundred times normal gravity…" He said robotically.

"What! Wait that's impossible, even Goku…"

Yamcha frowned, and then grinned with uncertainty. "Yeah, that's why I'm thinking it must be a hoax of some kind. Vegeta's body couldn't take the pressure; his lungs would probably collapse or something."

Puar pondered, raising his paw to his mouth. "Yes, that's very true." Yamcha nodded and he persisted.

"Let's continue to watch."

Yamcha rose back to his feet silently with Puar balancing on his shoulder.

They watched for at least fifty more minutes, unblinking and focused on Vegeta's every move as he trained his body to the limit. Back flips, handstands, push-ups, pull-ups; he did everything with such a struggle. Sweat poured continually down his brow (he had gone through more then one towel) and he wrapped his hands and arms for better support. He tried with such determination to overcome the strain, doing multiple repetitions of each exercise and stretch he attempted. Yet, no matter how tired he appeared, Vegeta continued onward. Not once did he give up and throw in the sweaty towel during his workout. He glanced at the control panel every now and then, finally stopping when it read twelve o'clock.

By the end of his excruciating workout, even Yamcha was questioning his earlier supposition. Vegeta truly looked as though he were _that _powerful, even if it was theoretically impossible. He wondered how Goku would feel about Vegeta's progress. Would he be frightened for the earth? Or would he just stand in his cocky way and blow it off coolly? Maybe he'd congratulate him for helping save the planet? Vegeta would be of help, unlike him. No. That was the past. Vegeta would be kissing his shoes for mercy when the Androids show up. He laughed pitifully, the control panel's fire red numbers reminding him about a little place called reality.

Both he and Puar had to hide in the surrounding woods when Vegeta emerged, hot and tired, from Capsule Three. They didn't want to give Vegeta the satisfaction of knowing they were wowed by his strength. Never in a million years! Puar looked over at him from behind a miniscule rosebush.

"That sure didn't look like a trick Yamcha." Puar said, uncomforting.

Yamcha couldn't bring himself to answer back.

Bulma had just finished preparing lunch for phase four, which was on the same lines as phase one, except she was to mix bad food with bad company.

**Phase Four:**

Cook up a disgusting lunch.

Make sure both Vegeta and Yamcha are eating at the same table.

Compliment Yamcha on how much manlier and powerful he is.

Sit back and enjoy the show.

"Yamcha! Vegeta! Lunch is ready!" She shouted loudly from the kitchen door. In the split second that followed, Bulma could almost hear them stampeding like caribou towards her. Man's love for food was really quite astonishing.

Seconds after she called out, Vegeta appeared suddenly at the kitchen table, with Yamcha and Puar following close behind in second place. They sat directly across from Vegeta, avoiding all apparent eye contact with him. He didn't look too overjoyed when they arrived either. Vegeta, the baboon, was baring his front teeth. So they all sat in silence until Bulma brought them their lunch.

Placing the ceramic bowls in front of both of the warriors, Bulma sat between them. She smiled as she handed over to them some silver spoons.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Eat up while it's warm."

Nobody made the first move to grab their spoon to Bulma's disappointment, which she acted out brilliantly. They all stared blankly at the toxic waste in their bowls.

"I toiled _so_ long over a hot stove for what! A nice, healthy vegetable soup, which nobody wants to eat! Not even _my_ boyfriend!" She sputtered coldly, her eyes welling up. And the Oscar goes to….

Vegeta didn't care, but Yamcha looked scared to death "_Mmmm_," he faked noticeably, taking a spoonful and placing it far from his mouth. "It smells really… ah … good! Just what I needed after a long morning of training!" He tried smiling innocently.

Vegeta grumbled. "You mean after a long morning of spying on me, you peeping-tom!" He stated darkly.

Yamcha almost choked while drinking a glass of water. He coughed nervously, water spraying from his mouth. "W-what! You knew we were there the entire time?"

Vegeta laughed bitterly.

"How could I miss your fat head?"

"_No way_," Yamcha said disbelievingly to himself. Puar inched away from the table silently.

"Spy on me just one more time and I'll make sure you'll die…_again_!" Yamcha gulped. Vegeta would almost certainly follow through with this threat happily.

"If you knew we were there, why didn't you do anything about it?" He attempted to ask a question, hoping not to be killed for it.

Vegeta glared at him from across the table.

"I wasn't about to interrupt _my _training session for the likes of _you_!"

That's it for questions ladies and gentlemen.

Bulma sat nervously between the two bickering warriors, not knowing what to say to either of them. When Vegeta had finished his last threat and comment, she jumped right in quickly.

"Alright guys! Enough with the bad-mouthing… Besides, the soup is getting cold, and it probably tastes better warm."

No arguing with that, she thought. Bulma's plan was still on, and she would do whatever was possible to piss Vegeta off. Also she wouldn't mind putting Yamcha through a little hell at this moment either. It was her who would get the ball rolling.

Yamcha attempted to take another spoonful of her delicious soup, sputtering and taking a swig of water. He then fanned air onto his tongue. Maybe she shouldn't have added those chilli peppers? Vegeta, on the other hand, sat silently, watching Yamcha with a mocking grin. Now, how much would it take to get Vegeta to eat as well? Bulma placed her head on her hands.

"Oh my gosh Yamcha!" She cooed; her eyelashes flickered as well. "You're eating it all! Seriously, you are the man! Quite unlike that wimp over there. Like come on, he wants to fight the Androids but cannot even stomach one bowl of soup (one very large bowl of soup, she added mentally). Right, Yamcha?"

Yamcha looked shocked that such a question was directed at him. He glanced over at Vegeta who was glaring at him, then at Bulma, who also happened to be glaring at him. He didn't know which was worse.

"Umm, I'm sure Vegeta could stomach the soup if he tried… It's not that bad…." He tried to smile bravely. Bulma seemed okay with his answer.

"Vegeta is just scared, that's all," she commented. "He is nothing more than a brainless chicken."

Yamcha gasped. How could she be so courageous! Shaking his head, he scolded himself for being a baby. If he could eat Bulma's sickening soup and Vegeta couldn't, it would be a victory for him. He prepared to indulge.

On the other end of the table, Vegeta's stomach growled. Yet he still did not care. Going hungry was better than eating another horrible meal. Besides he was grumpy enough to tear Yamcha to pieces and torture Bulma by making her eat the concoction she had the nerve to call soup.

Bulma sighed, she had had enough. Turning towards Vegeta she decided to hit him right where it really hurt; his pride. She loved knowing his unprotected soft spot.

"Is my soup really that bad Vegeta? Goku didn't seem to mind when he visited. Actually, he finished three or four bowls. I believe he even took a bit home with him for snack."

"Well, Goku would eat anything," protested Yamcha. Bulma shot a menacing look at him, and he lowered his head like a punished dog.

"I mean, Goku is so much stronger and braver than everyone else on earth. I don't think a little spicy soup would stop him."Yamcha hoped to redeem himself in Bulma's eyes and then realized what he was in for.

Hey, well that's all for now folks! Tune in next week when Yamcha faces off with Vegeta for the ultimate prize, pride!

IceLyon


	4. The Challenge

Disclaimer: I know I don't own DBZ… But I can write Fan Fiction! You can't take that away from me Akira T.! (Maniacal laugh)

**Chapter Four**

The Scene from Yamcha's Point of View:

Shit. Where are the dragon balls when you really need them? I mean, what stupid being created them so they'd be so hard to collect? Honestly, having them all together would be really helpful in this sort of predicament. Maybe if there was only one, it'd be so much more efficient. I would just tell that massive dragon guy to like, take Vegeta to the furthest corner of the universe. Perhaps put him on a planet where his only companion is a photograph (indestructible at that) of yours-truly. Ha, ha. His head would probably explode or something. Oh, he'd be _so_ pissed. He'd regard my sexy face forever and ever, which is not necessarily a horrible thing.

Oh, right, back to reality. I kind of wish I were on one on those god-forsaken planets or just near a very large hole in which I could just jump into and end it all. Or perhaps a black hole to get sucked into, where I'd be broken down into the smallest form of matter and crushed into non-existence. No pain whatsoever, and who knows, maybe I'll be transported to another dimension? Yamcha in space (the newest major motion picture)! Sigh… You may think that my situation cannot be that bad and I'm overreacting. It's a bit of both, but yes, it is _that _bad. Here's the current situation. I'm stuck in the fiery pit of hell and Lucifer himself is glaring at me from across the kitchen table. Adjacent to the devil is the Wicked Witch of the West who has just completed her latest and most devious concoction. I've always said that she wasn't cut out to be a chef. Her untamed blue hair blows in an ill wind and her mouth is twisted in an artificial smile. Her eyes tell me to take her side or die a horrible and painful death. Seriously, I don't know which is worse. I'm scorned either way.

I look to my right side for backup and all I can see is a small cowardly blue mouse. _Well, I'm not screwed at all!_ He looks at me with large puppy-dog eyes and we agree silently that I'm not coming out of this one alive. He then retreats to my pant leg, hides, shakes and makes me feel so much more comforted.

I'm alone and I need a plan. I need a way to please them both. But, how in hell can I do so? (No pun intended) Think Yamcha, think. No… thatdoesn't work.

I look around quickly for means of escape. The door is locked. Trust Bulma to double-bolt it.

Who do I plead to for forgiveness or support? Vegeta's ready to kill me, I just doubted his masculinity which equals an instant death sentence. I basically called him a wimp. Now he won't rest until he beats me senseless into the floorboards. Bulma is no better. Her wrath is almost as bad as Vegeta's. They'd actually kill each other if they ever went out. Whoa, now that's a scary thought.

Now I must use my "street smarts" (code word for idiocy) or in other words my… oh yes, my brain, to think my way out of this one. I contemplate for a short minute; patience is not one of Bulma's attributes. It then hits me like how I hit that pole the other day while walking home. My only hope, as I look to Bulma, is in her soup. If I can somehow stomach the creature from the black lagoon I can win her support. Beating Vegeta proves I'm right too, and he won't kill me. Hopefully… if not Bulma can protect me...

Come to think of it, I don't need a woman's protection. What kind of man am I? I should slap myself! It's decided. I **will** eat this poison to prove to Bulma that I am just as manly as Vegeta! I will do this for myself, hah ha hah, chow time baby (going insane)!

* * *

Bulma regarded Yamcha, trying to catch his eye. He was just sitting there, for god's sake, twiddling his thumbs. He has never been really smart. She looked warily over at Vegeta. Spoon in hand, he looked ready to shove it down Yamcha's throat or just throw straight it at his big head. Anyways, Yamcha needed to decide, and by that it meant he needed to take her side. He succeeded in getting the monkey mad, but the push over the edge was still needed. 

Decided and prepared Yamcha, suddenly shouted out, adding to the already stygian atmosphere.

"Vegeta! I challenge you to a duel!"

A profound silence followed. Bulma almost danced in her glee. How perfect everything about the plan was falling into place.

"Vegeta ! I challenge-"

Yamcha said again, just in case Vegeta had misheard him yelling the first time around.

"I heard you!" Vegeta interrupted coldly. "Just how dumb are you?"

Yamcha didn't answer that. "Do you accept?"

The spiky-haired man did not need more than a nanosecond to decide.

"I do not back down from challenges if that is what you're implying. Even petty ones," he said, causing Yamcha to grit his teeth. "Explain your duel."

Yamcha regained his composure. "The duel is to…" He paused for added suspense. "Eat this sickening soup until one of us dies!" A slapping noise was heard as Bulma's head dropped onto her palm.

"Not to the death idiot," she whispered to him, "Unless you really want to! Vegeta's primitive mind doesn't understand that it's not really until one of you dies. He won't stop until you really _do_ fall down dead." Genuine shock was portrayed on Yamcha's face. He didn't think of that.

"Or until one of us surrenders" he added nervously. That corrected things.

"Fine," Vegeta replied and added, "Chicken". It took Yamcha second to register this.

"What did you call me?" Yamcha said venomously. Bulma put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but it was far too late. Flames, in a dramatic sense, danced behind his eyes. Vegeta seemed unconcerned.

"Chicken, you know those good-for-nothing fat feathered birds that hop around aimlessly whenever danger is present. Pathetic earth creatures. Quite like yourself and your friends actually." If a live audience had been present, the words "dis" or "brulé" (for my beloved French readers) would have been heard almost euphoniously.

Yamcha stood up, fuming. "_You ass_! You're welcome to this planet even after all you did! Then you have the nerve to insult my friends as well as me! _Goku must have been mad to spare you_! Damn him and his good heart!"

Bulma knew he went too far. Mentioning Goku at the table and how he almost finished Vegeta off was an unspeakable taboo.

"You say this when somebody far more powerful is sitting across from you, quite unwise," he growled. His eyes lowered in frustration.

"I'm not scared of you Vegeta!"

"Oh, I believe you," he said sarcastically. Vegeta looked right at him. "Your shaking limbs betray all." Yamcha stood up straighter, trying desperately to steady his body.

"I _will_ beat you! And when I do, you, as the loser will be obligated to perform a task for me." Vegeta was intrigued.

"Fine. If I win though you will have to perform a task for me… as the loser you are."

Bulma chose this as the perfect opportunity to jump in before bloodshed occurred.

"Okay that seems fair. How about… whoever loses must wash the clothes of the other (unmentionables and all) for a whole week (actually, she didn't feel like doing laundry that week)". Both men nodded their heads in agreement, yet were thinking about how they did not want to be the one to do it, although Vegeta had no doubts.

"By hand, for further disgrace," Vegeta added, directing the comment at Yamcha.

Yamcha felt he needed to add something to this challenge as well.

"The loser must wash the clothes outside for the world to see and… they must dress as a butler!" He was pleased with himself until he realized that it would probably be him.

"How about a maid's ensemble? Oh, how fun, a duel, what an interesting idea it is," came a voice from the corner of the kitchen.

"_Dad_! **Get lost**!" Bulma yelled. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he said as though he were a pervert witnessing a private moment.

"Well, get going!" Bulma replied. Her dad could not resist the idea of a challenge, even if he wasn't involved. But his idea was valid. Mr. Brief nodded, said good-bye then disappeared into the shadows of the living room. Bulma kept the whole concept of the duel moving, god; it was too good to pass up! Picturing Vegeta in a frilly maid's dress was so hilarious, she had to keep from smirking. The dress on Yamcha however, was not as funny to her. Why did it somehow seem to fit?

"Alright." Bulma stated, gathering herself.

"So the rules are… the one who consumes the most soup wins, but you cannot physically bother the other competitor. If you do so, you will forfeit the duel and the other competitor automatically wins. The loser thereafter will scrub the clothes of the loser for a week, by hand, and by the road in front of the Capsule Corporation grounds while wearing the typicalattireof a maid. (Which I will go buy, I guess...) The first to leave the table will forfeit the match to the other… Do both participants agreed to abide by these rules?" She sighed, hoping Yamcha would not be the one to lose.

"Agreed," said Vegeta with his arms crossed tightly. He was ready to disgrace Yamcha even further. What an idiot he was to challenge the mighty Prince Vegeta!

Yamcha was a little more hesitant. All together the entire duel sounded like too much. It was like a crossover between Fear Factor and America's Funniest Home Videos. What if he lost? Bulma would put a paper bag over her head to hide her shame and he would be forced to live in an abandoned shack somewhere in the woods all alone as a hermit… his beauty would go to waste, and his other spectacular and amazingly perfect talents as well, because he couldn't save any pretty damsels anymore and get their phone numbers cause, of course they think he's hot, but he's stuck in the woods living as a honourless hermit… etc. etc. (Even in his head he rambles… Or is just plain delusional… Ice L.)

Finally he answered apprehensively. "Agreed…" He said sadly.

"Good!" Bulma said cheerily. "I'll get more soup!"

* * *

Twenty-five long minutes pass… 

"_Are you ready yet woman_?" Bulma ignored this.

"Almost Vegeta…" She said wearily.

Placing the steaming tub of supposed "soup" on the table, Bulma filled their bowls full.It's prettyequal, she thought. She then grabbed a nearby pen and a blank sheet of paper and wrote the names "Vegeta" and "Yamcha" upon it. Squeezing the pen she turned to Yamcha, who nodded and then to Vegeta, who glared. They were ready.

"Okay guys… 3… 2… 1… GO!"

* * *

The Scene from Bulma's Point of View: 

The only word to describe the scene is… _horrific_. The moment the word "go" emitted from my mouth, both Vegeta and Yamcha transformed. They became…inhuman. Their spoons were blurs and their mouths opened and closed at what could be defined as light speed. In a way it was a spectacular feat. I was honestly amazed, seeing as how this soup could make your typical worm indulgent vomit. What was even more amazing was that Vegeta was actually going along with it! I pictured Yamcha diving into his bowl while Vegeta sat watching, suppressing his laughter. It would have taken Yamcha minutes to realize… I've got to hand it to him though. Vegeta is actually being sportsmanlike.

Yamcha on the other hand is beginning to falter, but I've got to give it to him too. Facing Vegeta is not something a lot of people wish to do in their spare time.Yamcha actually hates him… he wouldn't do this if he didn't. I try to support him, in betweenkeeping score and my stomach from turning. I kind of regret triggering this duel… it's actually really sickening.

Yamcha has tears and sweat pouring down his face now, but he refuses to surrender. Every bite is a tremendous struggle. Ugh, nasty, I don't even want to know what was in _that_ spoonful! I know I made it but… Things at the back of the fridge really aren't identifiable. They can be described as shapeless,mould-habitat, or otherworldly. The fact that somebody is actually eating this mess proves that there are absolutely no limits to male competitiveness. I kind of wish somebody would just give up… before _I'm_ sick.

* * *

Vegeta was so disgusted, so utterly sickened, it was unthinkable. What would his father think if he saw him competing with a human; he'd probably just knock some sense into him…. The earthling was slowing… Good riddance, he thought. The stuff was nauseating; he couldn't believe he agreed to this. Well, he couldn't back out now, call it Saiyan pride, but his honour was at stake. He needed to reinstate fear back into the hearts of the earthlings, for they were truly becoming unworried. He enjoyed the way they used to scramble in fear at the sound of his name… And he loved the way their faces twisted and contorted with horror in his presence…. On the other hand, his clothes needed a good wash (he couldn't afford to trust the woman anymore).

* * *

"Yamcha!" 

Bulma jumped forward to help him out of his soup, in which he fell in when he exhausted himself entirely. Bulma pulled his face out of the foul-smelling liquid and had to smile. Yamcha was grinning, his face covered in soup and ancient egg noodles; he had tried his best.

"You win Vegeta," he said softly and turned to Bulma. "Sorry Bulma, I'm not an eating-machine like Goku." She smiled again.

"You did so well!"

Vegeta suddenly threw his soup spoon on the tiled floor. He was appeared quite angry, and stormed out of the kitchen grumbling. The door slammed behind him.

"What's eating him?" Yamcha asked. Bulma just shook her head, Vegeta was like a locked door, and there was no way in unless one had the key. He'll forever be a mystery… Shrugging away the though shereturned her attention back to Yamcha.

"Are you sure you're okay. I mean, you had (she consulted her sheet) over fifteen bowls of _it_." She looked down. She had made him eat it. Her and her stupidplot for revenge against Vegeta.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. It was my idea," she told him guiltly. She felt really horrible and hoped Yamcha wouldn't be too mad at her. Yet to her surprise he was not.

Yamcha looked startled. "What do you mean Bulma? It's my fault, I started the whole thing."

"But I triggered it, and I provoked you." Bulma wanted to take all the blame.

"Who accepted the challenge, me or you? It was my choice; I probably could have backed down if I had wanted to. Pride is the only thing Vegeta and I have in common. That's why he couldn't refuse either, as much as he wanted to, I bet." He grinned, making Bulma feel far worse then she already did.

"Vegeta won fair and square, so find me a nice maid's outfit okay? I still have to hold up my end of the deal," Bulma nodded silently, ashamed at what she did to both Yamcha and Vegeta. She was so mean; Vegeta deserved what he got, but she felt guilty. Yamcha on the other hand was truly innocent.

Vegeta stomped back into the kitchen, mumbling to himself.

"Vegeta, I…" Bulma started. She wanted to apologize anyway, monkey or not.

"_Lousy day_," he said to himself. _"I just want to punch something." _His voice was malicious so there was no use trying to talk to him.

He grabbed a glass of water, chugging it down to wash the horrible taste in his mouth out. His stomach made an interesting noise, as if pleading for mercy. He left then, silently, and angrily made his way to the training capsule.

It was silent for a moment. "I think he's really pissed at us," said Yamcha. Bulma followed his slumped figure as he walked through the seemingly nice afternoon. It came to her then.

"No, he's not mad at us…." She replied knowingly.

* * *

In the capsule, Vegeta began his usual afternoon training. Yet on this day he was angrier than usual. He shouldn't have been; he had walloped Yamcha. But there were other things on his mind. The same thing that was always on his mind, and replayed like a broken record. No matter how hard he tried not to listen, he still could not shut his ears completely. It was _Kakarot_, and even the pathetic earthlings knew. Kakarot was far stronger than him … And everyday he felt like he was falling further behind. Although he'd never admit it, he actually thought for a moment (not a very long moment) that Yamcha was going to beat him. The soup was incredibly difficult to consume…. He had pushed himself. Yet he felt the horrors of his weakness once again, even in a task so insignificant. Vegeta despised the very thought and feeling of losing brought up by the "idiot". Try as he did to forget the sensation,he could not. He hated himself for being weak, a Saiyan Prince; always a few steps behind a peasant like Kakarot. Even the mysterious boy from the future had transcended. They were bothfar ahead of him. Hatred of them boiled inside his body, and he released it through sheer ferocity. He would never give up.

* * *

Bulma sighed and sat back in her chair. She was exhausted, mentally. She felt really horrible, and when she saw Vegeta's face she forgother reasons for revenge. He was really upset; it wasn't actually all her fault though… The look on his face was still the same when he returned to the kitchen, his mind occupied. She knew what was bothering him, finally...

While Yamcha was mentioning the time when Vegeta was almost finished off by his nemesis, she saw Vegeta'sface drop. Not subtly, but she witnessed the way his eyes darkened and his fist clenched. The way his muscles tightened and his smirk vanished from sight. She knew that Goku bothered Vegeta; however she did not suspect the deepness of his hate. Not hate, his inability to reach the same level. Did his weakness consume him? Was that the reason why he accepted Yamcha's measly challenge? She sighed heavily then. What must it feel for the powerful prince to be beaten and surpassed again and again? Would she ever know?

* * *

Yamcha walked out from the upstairs bathroom and stretched. He felt sick to his stomach, as if someone had punched him right in the gut…. Repeatedly. 

He walked to the end of the hallway and brushed his bare feet on the cushy bluematerialof a nearby rug. He stopped to take a look at apicture hanging on the white wall beside him. It was an enlarged photograph of the Brief family placed in an eloboratesilver-plated frame. He located Bulma quickly and laughed at her blue afro. She looked young, maybe about seven, and she smiled her typical broad grin. She was wearing a red dress with a matching bow in her hair. She was really cute. He turned away then, exhaling deeply.

He was a fool. Maybe he should…

His cell phone rang right then, (with the Blue Velvet ring-tone), and he picked it up quickly. Checking both ways as you would when crossing a busy intersection, he snuck silently into a bedroom when he made positive the coast was clear.

"Hello?" He said quietly.

"Oh, hey, how are you? Yeah, I'm good." He paused for a moment, thinking. He looked both ways again, checked around the corner and continued.

"No, I'm not doing anything important, really…. Yeah, I am… Tonight? No, I'm not busy; I'm just sitting here… Okay… So, I'll see you then I guess… Yeah, sure… Bye."

Yamcha hung up, placing his cell phone back in his pocket carefully.

He exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him without making a sound. Heading back downstairs, he avoided looking at the old photograph completely.

* * *

The miniature training bots were no match for Vegeta's might. He fired consecutive blasts of ki in their direction, blowing them into fine powder. Vegeta did not stop there. He wheeled around to face the next round of attackers, and powered up prepared. His energy alone held back their attack. 

Kakarot must have trained harder. He must have. Raising the force of gravity to a new high, he forgot the warnings old man Brief's had stated to him. Four-hundred G's… Vegeta bore the increased strain on his body with his determination alone. His muscles strained to hold him upright until he fell upon his knees. An image of Goku flashed in his mind then, as if he knew Vegeta had failed once again, perhaps for the last time. Usingalmost all of his energy to stand, he screamed out in anger and pain.

After a struggle he stood verticle once again. He breathed heavily. Kakarot did not give up and neither would he. His training must persist.Vegeta let out a blast at the flying object close by, as powerful as he could make it. He stumbled as he shot it though, causing the ki beam to bounce off of the nearby reflective wall.His own energy washeaded right towards him! Quickly, he shot out another blast to protect himself. The two beams collided, forming a large ball of energy to form.It continued growing unsteadily as Vegeta pumped more energy into it. Itwas growing too unstable;Vegeta couldn't control it anymore.Unable to shield himself, Vegeta was engulfed by the explosion that resulted.

* * *

In the kitchen, Bulma sat back in her chair and took a long sip of her drink. Yamcha had been gone for a long time, she thought. What could be taking him? 

Just then she heard an unfathomable crash, as if the very earth was splitting apart from beneath her. Scared, she faced her fears and attempted to rush outside to see. Something was horribly wrong… and it was coming in Vegeta's direction.

The windows rattled, dishes shattered on the floor. The entire foundation was shaking unsteadily. Bulma almost fell but made it to the door, which she held to for support. She wanted to scream out, but found she could not. Her entire body was paralyzed with fear.

As quickly as it had started, the shaking ceased. Bulma loosened her hold on the doorframe and stumbled outside as quickly as possible. Breathing heavily, she froze when she beheld what had occurred. The entire capsule …. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

"VEGETA!" She cried, and rushed towards the rubble.

* * *

Yay! Chapter 4 is done, finally. I've been incredibly busy, I have a part-time job now (it's so hectic) and I took some away from doing homework to finish it. What do you think of the story? I personally enjoyed writing about the Vegeta vs. Yamcha challenge. Also, if you know the episode in which this takes place I hope I'm kind of accurate. I have only seen it once, sorry! I did change a few things to the storyline (and left out a couple of things) just to make it a bit more interesting . Just pretend you are seeing the outtakes… ha ha. Well, anyways, thanks to everyone who has reviewed and returned to read more. I really appreciate it! Give yourself a round of applause, a pat on the back, whatever makes you feel better about yourself (joking, I'm not that mean, I really love your reviews). Thank you! 

Please, come back for chapter 5!

Ice Lyon


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